


Gideon Drake and the Fire Within

by TEZofAllTrades



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Harry Potter, Adult Hermione Granger, Adventure, Family, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts, Magic, Mystery, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Secrets, Suspense, Thriller, Witches, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TEZofAllTrades/pseuds/TEZofAllTrades
Summary: A new story set in J.K. Rowling's Wizarding World. Gideon is a wizard! Or is he? As his first day at Hogwarts finally draws near, Gideon's life begins to unravel, and so, too, do the secrets surrounding his past... An exciting modern-day Fantasy/Mystery about magic, family and friendship."Just as The Legend of Korra is the sequel to The Last Airbender, Gideon Drake is the sequel to Harry Potter!"





	1. The Boy Who Died

The prosecution had made their case, and a strong one at that, thought Jonathan Grimsby. He stared down at his tightly clasped hands, only faintly listening to the opposition's final summation. Mr Grimsby, the Advocate for the Defence, would have his turn to speak momentarily, but he found himself in something of a quandary.

For the most part he agreed with what he was arguing. After all, he was widely thought of as one of the Ministry of Magic's more progressive voices. On this occasion however, with the way he was feeling, Grimsby found himself questioning whether he was worthy to count himself among that small group.

He reminded himself that every case deserved an Advocate's best effort, in spite of any personal views they may harbour. On top of that, his case record could really do with a point in the win column. Even so, he wasn't sure his heart was really in this one.

He knew that his only chance was to appeal to the panel's better nature. Unfortunately, the Head Magister, like most on the bench, was a relic of the past. One who had lived through the dark times and whose rulings, Grimsby suspected, were often based on fear rather than any real desire to uphold law or tradition.

Grimsby absentmindedly noticed the opposition take his seat. He rose from his own with purpose and a confidence that masked his true feelings. His colleagues might think of him as "young", "naïve" or even "a bleeding heart", but he was still good at his job. However, unlike his opponent, he was also a handsome man, and wasn't above using that to his benefit.

The demands of his heavy workload and a new baby at home had aged him beyond his years, but the slight greying at the sides of his wavy golden hair was barely noticeable, and his pale blue eyes shone brightly beyond the dark circles underneath. He swept his golden locks from his face and began his speech, making sure to make eye contact with each of the Magisters, the women for a little longer.

His monologue touched on magical law, history, ethics and even included comparisons from the muggle world. Grimsby made some strong points and observed a softening of the brow from some of the panel. Sadly, when he noticed that the Head Magister, an older witch with a bouffant hairdo and far too much make-up, appeared unmoved by neither his words nor his charms, he couldn't help feeling he was fighting a losing battle.

Grimsby drew breath and delivered his final point, 'In closing ladies and gentlemen, we judge others based on their actions, but it is only with awareness of those actions that we can hold them truly accountable. This incident was tragic but proceeding with the proposed sentencing is not only unjust, it is an archaic practice that defies nature itself. I plead with you all, let us find another way.'

Grimsby took his seat with a final nod to the panel and a steely glare toward his opponent, whose large white moustache barely concealed a smirk. The Head Magister rose and announced in an uncharacteristically squeaky voice, 'Thank you Advocates. The panel will now convene and render a verdict within the hour.'

Grimsby left the courtroom side by side with his opponent, quite the achievement given he was something of a portly man. Mr Gentry was also rather short, so Grimsby had to bend down to hear his whispers as they made their way from the chamber, 'Come now, Grimsby, my boy,' he said. 'Between us, where do you really stand on this issue?'

Grimsby was surprised to sense sincerity in the older gentleman's voice. He took a moment before replying, 'Honestly? I'm not sure,' he answered. 'I know the Ministry has to take some action, especially given the publicity of the incident, but denying a child their birth right when they have already lost so much? I don't know how to reconcile that.'

Gentry jerked his head in a way that seemed to indicate some understanding and replied, 'And if he were left unchecked only to journey down a dark path?'

Grimsby didn't need to consider his response to this question, it was very the crux of the matter, 'That's just it, Gentry. We all have that potential, don't we? I was always taught that it's our choices in life that define who we are, and we're arguing about whether to take away someone's choices. I worry about the precedent that sets.'

As they reached the end of the hall and started up the stairs to level nine, Gentry said, 'Yes, that is a concern I share. Alas my boy, it's out of our hands now.' They made for the golden-grilled lifts and headed back up to the Department for Magical Law Enforcement on level two. Gentry nodded him farewell and took the corridor to the right while Grimsby headed left.

As he arrived at his office, Grimsby realised a couple of inter-departmental memos had followed him from the lift. He watched as the flying paper planes landed and unfolded themselves on top of his already overflowing inbox. It had surely doubled since he'd left for court that morning. 

He took his seat, leaned back and closed his eyes to ponder the case and how it had reached this point. It had been only four days since he was assigned to it. He had been summoned to what turned out to be a task force headed up by the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

Aurors, obliviators, healers and more had all been gathered to respond to a high-risk incident. A ground team had already been dispatched but there was plenty to do behind the scenes, not only to control the incident, but also to ensure that the muggle world did not catch wind of what had transpired. 

It was designated Class Four (a magical accident where there was high probability of muggle witnesses and one where deaths had occurred). Luckily it fell short of a Class Five (a catastrophic event) but it had been a while since anything above a Class Three was reported.

Grimsby had arrived at the response room, where he was surprised by the level of activity. It was a very large semi-sphere-shaped room with manned stations all around and concave glass panels adorning the walls above. Grimsby had only been there once before. However, this time almost all of the panels were active, displaying visual records of events, presumably from the incident judging from the chaotic scenes on show.

He made his way toward the Head of the Department, Madam Valerie Oswald, recognisable immediately by her floating flower-patterned armchair, which zoomed around the room as she monitored the different screens and consulted with the desk operators below. 

With a point of her wand, the bespectacled black-haired witch's chair flew her over toward Grimsby and other arrivals to brief them on the situation. In a clear and controlled voice, she informed them, 'At approximately eleven AM today a sizeable magically-induced explosion occurred outside a busy muggle shopping centre. Reports are still coming in but we understand that this may have been the result of a kidnapping attempt.'

The crowd listened with rapt attention as Madam Oswald used images on the glass screens as visual aids, 'An unknown wizard is among the dead and believed to be the kidnapper, but not however, the perpetrator. Auror's have been dispatched to seal the area and the Investigation Department are already on the case.

'So far it looks like an isolated incident but there are many victims with varying levels of injury, including six confirmed deaths and I'm afraid to say, evidence of dark magic. This means that we will be under a lot of scrutiny not only from the muggles but from the wizarding world as well. As such, there is a lot of work ahead of us all.'

The witch began assigning individual tasks to the group. One by one they went on their way until only Mr Grimsby remained and Madam Oswald finally said, 'Follow me please, Grimsby.' 

He complied as her chair hovered away to an adjacent room, which turned out to be her private office. Inside, the armchair rose and then plopped itself down with a thud behind a large desk, and she gestured for Grimsby to take the seat opposite.

She poured the two of them a cup of tea from a silver serving tray and drew a long breath before taking a sip. 'So,' she said, 'why have I brought you here?'

'Well, if there was a kidnapping involved there may have been just cause for a magical response, obviously not one that would result in a Class Four, but I expect I've been summoned to represent the perpetrator's interests?' Grimsby deduced. 'Has the witch or wizard responsible been located?'

'Well you're correct. However, there are exceptional circumstances that can't be repeated outside of this room. The wizard in question was a minor.' 

Mr Grimsby couldn't help adopting a look of perplexion and asking, 'You're saying an underage wizard performed dark magic responsible for a Class Four incident? Was it a Hogwarts student?'

Madam Oswald took another sip from her cup, peered down at him over her spectacles and answered in a grave tone, 'The wizard in question is not a student. He is an infant. 10 months and 12 days old to be exact.'

Mr Grimsby shuddered. 'An infant?' he exclaimed. It wasn't uncommon for young witches and wizards to perform accidental acts of magic during times of stress or high emotion. But an infant using magic on this scale? Without a wand? Dark magic at that? It was positively unheard of! Grimsby knew immediately that this could have serious implications for the wizarding world, and for the baby boy.

'What happens next, then?' he asked the now solemn-looking witch.

'The investigation is ongoing, but I've been instructed by the Minister to keep this piece of information secret, at least until we can find out more. As such, I will be recommending that a panel be convened to answer your question. You will Advocate for the boy. I'm sure you would agree that an open trial would risk word spreading, even with gag orders in place.'

Grimsby didn't relish the idea of being involved in a Ministry cover-up. That said, he did understand the reasons for it. In the muggle world the incident would be remembered as a tragic accident, a gas explosion would likely be the story. In the wizarding world, though, it would be remembered as a threat to the fragile peace that had been enjoyed over the last decade.

Lost in his memory and drifting dangerously towards sleep, Grimsby was startled by the arrival of another memo on his desk. He straightened up in his chair to see that this message was marked "urgent". The verdict was in. He hurriedly made his way back down to the courtroom, his mind plagued once again with thoughts of whether he had done enough, if he had really done his best. 

He arrived at the chamber to see that Gentry and the panel had already taken their seats. He drew up his robes, sat down and clasped his hands in front of him again, perhaps a bit too tightly as he could see the colour drain from his fingers.

The chamber was sealed, and the Head Magister arose. She cleared her throat and began to speak in her oddly high-pitched voice, 'This panel was convened to determine appropriate action following an unprecedented and tragic Class Four incident. 

'The severe lack of information available to this panel after four days of investigation is worrying. We know little about how this incident transpired and even less about why. Little to nothing is known about the identity of the kidnapper, or for that matter, the child he was after.'

The Magister did not look happy as she continued, 'However, a decision has to be made. One might speculate that this case will be judged on the presence of dark magic at the crime scene and what that could mean for our community. That kind of assumption would be mistaken. This panel's judgment has been based simply on whether there is a clear and present danger to the child and those around him, as well as a high exposure risk. After careful consideration, we have come to the conclusion, that there is.'

Grimsby felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'As such, we have decided that the proposed sentence will proceed without deviation,' the Head Magister stated. 'Seeing that the mother was one of the victims, and the only living relative that has been identified, the child will be listed among the deceased in all records.

'Following sentencing, the child will become a ward of the Ministry until such time as a suitable placement can be arranged. Mr Grimsby will remain the Advocate of record and oversee the arrangements. This decision is final.'

The Head Magister jabbed the air with her wand and a loud bang concluded the trial. As the panel made their way from their seats to the rear exit of the chamber, Mr Gentry walked over to Grimsby and offered him a handshake, 'Well argued my boy. Perhaps for the best, though, eh?'

Grimsby returned the gesture and replied with a forced smile, 'Perhaps.'

Back in his office a dejected Grimsby filled his afternoon with busy work like sorting through his inbox and replying to mail. Eventually the court clerk's office sent up the paperwork required to start the necessary arrangements. Grimsby begrudgingly completed the forms and sent them for processing before finally heading home.

It had been a while since he had worked a Saturday. The Ministry was always so much quieter and emptier on those occasions and the vendors were usually closed. Grimsby wasn't sure if that was the reason, or if it was because he had been so distracted, but he hadn't eaten a thing all day, and suddenly he was ravenous. 

The good thing about Saturday's was that there wouldn't be any queuing for the floo network. As Grimsby arrived at the atrium and the gilded fireplaces that would magically transport him home, he waved good night to the guard and stopped to observe the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

Its golden figures looked quite different than they had years ago, in spite of the many restoration attempts. Somehow, Grimsby thought, the witch, the centaur, the goblin and the elf just didn't look as happy as they once had while staring up at the wizard above.

After a minute or so, he dropped the change from his pockets into the water, knowing the proceeds would go to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, his first destination come Monday morning.

Grimsby walked to the closest fireplace, stepped in and took a handful of the complimentary floo powder from the wall bracket. He threw it downward and announced clearly, 'Number 15, Redwing Close.' He was engulfed in emerald flames and felt his insides pulled and pushed, as he whizzed through a series of twists and turns until he felt the ground beneath his feet once more.

When he stepped out of the mahogany fireplace of his contemporary living room, his hunger peaked with his first inhale. The smell of his wife's cooking wafted from the kitchen, luring him toward it like a siren's call. 

Mrs Grimsby sat at the kitchen table reading a folded newspaper in one hand while the other casually pointed a wand toward a set of saucepans stirring themselves in sync. 

Mr Grimsby made his presence known with a wry smile, 'What's cooking good looking?' Mrs Grimsby visibly jumped but then immediately giggled at her husband's silly joke. 

She got up and gave him a kiss while keeping her wand arm on the pans. 'It's a surprise,' she said, 'I'm trying something new.' 

'Uh oh!' he jested, making his wife smile widely. Samantha Grimsby was very pretty. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied in a ponytail and warm brown eyes peaked out from beneath a neat fringe. Her clothes on the other hand were a little worse for wear. 

Mr Grimsby sat down at the kitchen table and placed his jacket and briefcase on the empty chair next to him. 'Is the baby still up, Sam?' he asked her. 

'Sorry no, he's been down for a while now. These stains have even had time to dry!' she answered, pointing to several multi-coloured patches on her shirt. She checked the oven briefly before broaching the subject, 'So, how did things go today, Jon?'

Mr Grimsby had enjoyed the distraction from the case but knew it would be short-lived. He and his wife had been discussing it every night since the incident, after all. Mrs Grimsby was currently on maternity leave from an independent firm specialising in magical patent law, but she had also worked at the Ministry of Magic in the past. They often discussed cases and Mr Grimsby appreciated her perspective on this one in particular, even if the details were supposed to be confidential.

'Bad news I'm afraid,' he said, noting the disappointment yet lack of surprise in her expression. 'I've got to be at St Mungo's on Monday.'

'That poor boy. It's barbaric!' said Samantha Grimsby while shaking her head in disbelief. With a sigh she added, 'Well, dinner won't be long if you want to poke your head in upstairs?'

Mr Grimsby visited the baby's room on the first floor, careful not to let the light from the ajar door flood in too far as he entered. He sat in the chair next to the cot and looked down at his sleeping son in amazement. He watched the baby like that for ten minutes or so before softly re-tucking the blankets and heading down to dinner, a little more relaxed than before.

***

The arrival of Sunday's Daily Prophet in the talons of a screech owl at the window woke Mr Grimsby. As expected, the full details of the incident had finally been released. There were a few omissions, of course, but it was a far more accurate account than any that had or would appear in the muggle press. 

The Prophet had reported the incident as the work of an as yet unidentified dark wizard, who had died at the scene by his own hand after a botched abduction attempt. Grimsby continued reading and saw that the full list of victims of the incident had also been revealed, including he noted, a young woman, Ms Gwendoline Drake and her infant son, Gideon Drake.

**Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the air of mystery in this first chapter. Chapter Two should answer any questions you might have and will set up the rest of the story.**


	2. The Weaving

The rest of Jonathan Grimsby's weekend was spent alternating between playing with his son and going over his case files. He had done a lot of research since the incident but now that there had been a judgment, he thought it best to go over the information pertinent to the next steps.

If he had to oversee the sentencing, he would make sure things were done on the up-and-up. It was especially important that he knew the procedure by heart. After all, it hadn't been carried out in over a century, so no living witch or wizard had actually performed it. Grimsby made a mental note that if this became a problem there might be cause for an appeal.

Monday arrived and Grimsby reluctantly got ready for work and bid his wife and son goodbye. He left via the front door in lieu of the fireplace. Inside the front porch, still safe from prying eyes but outside of the house's security spell, he turned on the spot and apparated to one of the many designated safe-zones in London, this one an alley way unnoticed by muggles, adorned with rather smelly rubbish bins.

He crossed the road at the end of the alley and stopped at a nearby newsstand to review the Muggle newspaper headlines. They, too, had revealed the list of victims but had reported the cause of the incident as a gas explosion, as Grimsby thought they might. In addition, the muggles would be holding a vigil for the victims that evening. Mr Grimsby made a mental note to attend. He felt he owed Ms Drake that much at least.

Britain's largest wizarding hospital was disguised as a condemned, red-bricked department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. Mr Grimsby arrived and quietly gave his name to the worst dressed mannequin behind the dirty display window. Then, on its signal he walked straight through the glass to find himself in St Mungo's busy reception.

A bored-looking Welcome Witch surveyed him from her desk beyond the seated waiting area and seemed to perk up. Grimsby made his way towards her, careful to avoid staring at some of the stranger afflictions that had befallen the occupants of the seats, and careful to avoid a large purple puddle, the origins of which he did not care to learn.

'Can I be of assistance?' the short witch asked in a come-hither voice.

'I hope so,' he replied. He used his wand to project his magical ID, a glowing Ministry of Magic logo with an image of his face and name, and announced himself, 'I'm here on official Ministry business, Jonathan Grimsby, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I believe you're expecting me?'

'Mr Grimsby?' called a voice from behind him. A slight but stern-looking woman with cropped grey hair quickly approached the Reception desk. Her lime-green healer's robes flowed behind her while a pair of gold-rimmed glasses swung rapidly from her neck on a matching chain.

The Welcome Witch returned to her seat looking quite perturbed. The healer offered Grimsby a handshake and greeting, 'Welcome, I'm Senior Healer Dandridge. Follow me, if you would.' 

He strode after the healer and followed her into the lift across the hall. Mr Grimsby had vaguely wondered what floor they would be heading to. He was surprised when the healer pointed her wand, rather than a finger, to the control panel and a hidden button marked "B" appeared, which she then pushed.

"B" apparently stood for "Basement" as the lift started moving downward. The Healer noticed his mild surprise and informed him, 'The restricted floor. It's a secure area for managing and treating difficult or dangerous cases such as untamed magical creatures -and criminals. It also houses the Ritual Spell Theatre.'

That explanation made some sense but it also irked Grimsby. A baby, in the basement, with the criminals, he thought to himself in disbelief before remembering why that was.

As they exited the lift, he noticed that the basement looked just like what he remembered of the other floors of the hospital, except it was devoid of people and the walls were clear of any notices or posters. There was also an ominous looking corridor to the left with a heavy set of double doors and a guard. 

The healer led him to the right. Grimsby began to realize they were heading in the direction of an intermittent noise that grew louder as they approached. They made a turn and arrived at a room housing the source of the noise. Two guards stood outside the room while inside, a baby cried alone in a cot.

'What is this?' demanded Grimsby. 'Why isn't he being attended to?' 

Dandridge picked up a chart from a wall hanging and replied, 'The guards are only here for security. We've been instructed not to enter except on regular intervals and the record does show that the patient was seen under an hour ago.'

Grimsby was still vexed, 'So the rest of the time he's just left here on his own and ignored?'

The healer did not reply so Grimsby flashed his badge at the guards. They waved their own wands over the door-less entrance to the baby's room and a two-tiered magical barrier became visible for a moment before dissolving into the air. 

Grimsby entered with Dandridge. He watched her assess the baby with a glowing green light from her wand and then she muttered some words under her breath before telling Mr Grimsby, 'Just needed a change.' 

He then picked up the baby and cradled him in his arms. One of the guards approached as if to object to this contact but seemed to think better of it after a glare from Grimsby.

He bounced baby Gideon for a few minutes until his cries gradually diminished and he nodded off. He realized his anger had to be partly prompted by thoughts of his own boy, and how he hoped someone would do the same for him if the circumstances were different. 

Grimsby made another mental note, this time to review policy on this matter. He suspected there wasn't anything specifically for unaccompanied minors. After all, they were in uncharted territory here.

The healer's stern expression had softened, as had her tone, 'I apologise if I was curt with you before, Mr Grimsby. It was short-sighted of me to assume the person overseeing the procedure would be a typical Ministry lackey.

'I suspect we find ourselves in similar situations. If you ask me this business sullies the healing profession. However, only a healer would have the skills necessary to perform the procedure, and I personally volunteered to ensure that mistakes can be avoided, if possible.' 

Mr Grimsby had calmed down now. He found Dandridge's words and confidence reassuring but he also lost any hope of being able to file an appeal. He admonished himself for even thinking that was an option given what a mistake could mean when such intricate magic was involved. 

Another healer arrived at the entrance. She kept her distance and announced, 'The Theatre has been prepared, Sister.'

She departed and Dandridge gestured for Mr Grimsby to return the baby to the cot. He did so and followed her out. The guards recast barrier spells with their wands but this time directly on the cot like a bubble. They then proceeded to levitate it out of the room and down the hall towards the lift.

Grimsby and Dandridge followed them to the lift area and then onward, through the now open heavy doors, which were promptly closed behind them by its guard. Grimsby peered into the windows of the rooms they passed. He saw some interesting healing magic at work and even caught a glimpse of what he thought sure was a dragon, before a bright flash caused him to avert his eyes. 

At the very end of the corridor was the Ritual Spell Theatre. It was different from the other rooms he had seen or any of those on the floors above. Its torch-lit stone walls resembled those of a dungeon, but the floor appeared to be smooth and metallic. 

Mr Grimsby was directed to the right-hand side where the stone wall jutted out into tiered levels. He surmised that this was an observation area and took a seat on the third level. From that height he could just about see into the cot in the middle of the room. That didn't matter, though, as the cot was suddenly dismantled, leaving only baby Gideon floating in the centre of the room above a large circular marking on the floor.

Grimsby was feeling very ill at ease. He found himself unable to recall his research. Instead his focus was on the baby's welfare. His concern was alleviated some by Senior Healer Dandridge announcing, 'We will now begin the procedure. Vocal detail will be used where possible for the benefit of our observer.'

The guards erected their barriers once more, this time a large wall around the Healers and themselves. Only Grimsby was outside of the magical field. He noticed the guards had opted for a more defensive stance before they nodded to Dandridge and she began, 'First, the sterilisation field.' 

One of the other healers performed this spell while the second performed the assessment magic Grimsby had seen Dandridge use earlier, presumably to monitor the baby's vitals. 

'Now I will sedate the patient', Dandridge explained as she gently flicked her wand in the baby's direction. He was then lowered to the floor inside the large circle while Dandridge stood just outside of it. 'And now the ritual incantations will begin,' said Dandridge. With this, Grimsby observed her muttering under her breath and waving her wand in continuous and unfamiliar patterns. 

Not before long, tiny lights began to emerge on the floor outside of the circle. This went on for some time and the light s became larger in number and size. Grimsby was transfixed until the lights began to join up and he finally recalled what this part of the procedure was about. 

Ritual magic like this was old magic and often required the use of magic circles. The circle on the floor was merely a template to aid the caster in placement of runes, which is what the tiny lights were. The pattern began to take shape after half an hour or so. Grimsby was impressed by the skill and fortitude of the Healer. She appeared to be in her sixties but had been casting non-stop. 

After about forty-five minutes, the pattern started to really come together. Dandridge finally paused, then more audibly than before, uttered some incantations unknown to Grimsby. Then, with one word the pattern began to increase in brightness, the next caused a surge of light to make its way clockwise around the fully formed magic circle until it caught up with itself and unleashed a flash brighter than anything Grimsby had seen up to that point.

The circle then dimmed some. Apparently, this meant it was complete as Dandridge visibly took a breath and the first healer came to her aid with a cloth to dab her forehead and a goblet of water for her to drink from. Grimsby realized he was somewhat breathless as well.

After just a minute or so Dandridge said, 'The magic circle has been completed successfully. We will now proceed with The Weaving.' Grimsby remembered that this was when the patient was to be imbued with the magic. It was the most delicate part of the ritual -and the most dangerous. However, if done correctly it would not take as long as the magic circle's construction.

Dandridge looked to the second healer for approval of the baby's condition before beginning. She stepped up to the circle and held her wand over him while her assistant walked around it, stopping at intermittent points to create blue orbs of light that hovered over the runes.

After ten orbs had been placed equidistant from each other, she uttered a spell and swept her wand sideways. The orbs landed softly on the runes one after the other and appeared to sink into them, leaving ripples across the magic circle like pebbles on a pond. 

Dandridge started a fast-paced chant and suddenly the brightness of the circle returned. The runes then began to move like ants scurrying in unison, first as one around in a circle and then they all closed in at once towards the baby.

Grimsby had one hand around his middle but the other had worked its way up to his face and he now found himself watching the scene through his fingers. Any lingering doubts he had about whether this was a just sentencing had disappeared. He had never seen magic like this. It just looked so wrong. Felt so wrong. He couldn't help but picture his own baby on the cold metal floor inside the magical circle. 

The runes reached the infant and began to move from the ground and crawl over his skin, swirling at the command of Dandridge's wand and flashing at the urging of her chant. Eventually the runes covered him entirely before turning black as night. Grimsby's eyes moved to the healer monitoring Gideon's condition. The green lights of her wand had turned orange and seemed to be steadily darkening. 

One last word from Dandridge began a whirlpool of the blackness until all of it shrank down into one swirling point in the centre of the baby's chest. The assistant healer's wand light suddenly turned red and a wave of energy was released, powerful enough to make those inside the field stumble backward and cover their faces. The barriers themselves visibly shuddered and the room's torches flickered in unison. 

The guards moved in with their wands raised and Grimsby got to his feet, convinced that something had gone horribly wrong. Dandridge raised a hand. The guards halted and everyone turned to the assistant healer. They saw that her wand light was green again and Dandridge moved to the baby's side. She waved her wand over him several times, examined his body then stood and announced, 'It is done.'

The Guards removed their barriers and the assistant healers summoned the dismantled cot parts from the other side of the room, reassembled it and placed the baby inside. 

Mr Grimsby headed down towards the cot. He looked in and saw that Gideon appeared to be quite calm, certainly calmer than he was. He quickly drew back the hand he had rested on the cot feeling foolish and addressed the guards, 'Sorry, do you need to re-cast the barriers?'

'No sir, no need for that anymore,' one of them replied before they both left the room. 

'So, everything went okay?' Grimsby asked the healers. 

Senior Healer Dandridge answered, 'Yes. No complications. High blood pressure but he'll recover. Under different circumstances I would consider it quite the achievement but, well you know...' 

One of the healer's spoke up, 'Yes Sister, the first successful binding in over a century, a flawless one at that! If it weren't for all the secrecy, you'd surely make it into the journals.' 

Dandridge's grim expression changed ever so slightly to one of mild embarrassment and she replied, 'Yes well, that's neither here nor there. Besides, I'm not sure we can call it "flawless" just yet. This type of magic always leaves marks.'

'How do you mean?' Grimsby enquired. 'Is there a scar? Or some kind of curse mark? I've read about that possibility, but I didn't notice anything.'

Dandridge observed the baby and answered, 'Not quite. We can't be sure of the long-term side effects but in the meantime... Well, it looks like he's coming around, so you can see for yourself.' 

Mr Grimsby watched the baby fuss, scouring his body for marks until his eyes slowly opened and stared back at him. One green. One blue.

**Thanks for reading this far! With these first two chapters complete, the groundwork has been laid and Gideon's story can truly begin...**


	3. Parting Shot

Gideon Maxwell had hoped his very last day of primary school would be spent simply exchanging well wishes, playing games or maybe re-enacting the Year Six musical one last time. Unfortunately, his classmates had other ideas. After a vote, they had decided on an extended PE session with the whole year group.

Gideon was sure it wouldn't be anything particularly strenuous or educational, but he would sooner just spend the time reading. Still, he could endure it knowing that the summer break would finally begin at three fifteen pm. He begrudgingly got changed into his PE clothes for the last time and hastily re-flattened his long fringe.

After a quick warm-up followed by some games with bean bags and hoops, the teachers suggested a round of dodge ball, which Gideon despised. The pupils began to split into teams and Gideon waited patiently until his name was finally called, last of course. He was used to that. With his health issues he couldn't even be angry with his classmates for picking him last.

He had always been something of a sickly child and physical activities just weren't his forte. In-fact, on the rare occasion he performed well in PE it was usually followed by him needing a puff from his inhaler.

Gideon wasn't disliked but he'd never made any real friends at Johnston Primary. In his first few years at the school his differences weren't that noticeable to the other children. It was only when they were seven or eight years old that his classmates really started to notice Gideon's health issues -and his odd looks.

He was easily the shortest boy in his year. He was also very pale. It was his eyes, however, that stood out the most. Gideon had heterochromia, which his parents told him meant he was born with two differently coloured eyes. His right was a deep blue while the left was a vivid green, with hazel around the centre.

Gideon didn't actually mind his left eye, he thought it looked interesting. Unfortunately, the contrast of bright and different colours against his dark hair and pale complexion, was extremely noticeable. To Gideon's way of thinking, it made him look creepy. That was why he had grown his hair out enough to just about keep the right side covered with his fringe, although it didn't really make much of a difference.

When Gideon was younger there were occasions where he was invited over to the other pupils' houses for birthdays, sleepovers and such, but something would always happen to him to ruin the fun and his parents would have to collect him.

Whether it was because of his asthma, his anemia, his allergies or simply being unable to keep up with the other boys, eventually the invitations just stopped coming. He soon found himself playing and eating by himself most days. Then the teasing began.

Gideon had begged his mother to let him move schools on numerous occasions, but she always maintained her belief that it was important for him to learn about the muggle world and mix with muggle children. He adapted to the pressures of school life by keeping his head down.

He spoke only when spoken to in classes and found quiet areas of the playground to read or draw by himself during break times. Bullies did target Gideon occasionally, but he quickly learned not to fall for their provocations, or even to react at all, and now they mostly opted for pretending he didn't exist, which was just fine by him. Primary school had been a lonely time for Gideon, but he had stuck it out knowing that it was also temporary.

After the dodge ball teams had been picked, Gideon decided to head to the back of the hall where he wouldn't get in the way, and where he could avoid getting hit or having to throw for a little while. It would at least look like he was making an effort to join in.

As he absentmindedly made his way to the far corner, Gideon failed to notice the whispers making their way around the room. Jason Crawley was his team's Captain. He was also something of a bully and top of Gideon's list of people he would not miss come three fifteen. As the two teachers engaged in conversation, it was Jason who called a start to the game, 'Now!' he yelled.

Gideon took a stance and prepared to look busy. He watched in what seemed like slow motion as Jason and the rest of his team's front-line turned away from their opponents and towards him. They all seemed to be wearing the same devilish grins as they simultaneously launched their balls in the wrong direction. His direction!

Recognition slowly dawned on Gideon as the first ball, Jason's ball, hit him square in the mouth. The others followed quickly landing blows all over his body as Gideon's embarrassment became apparent. Just one more day, he thought, couldn't they have left him alone for just one more day?

He knew he wouldn't be seeing these people again but after all the years he had spent keeping to himself, carefully avoiding them, barely speaking, barely existing, only for this to be their last memory of him? It was just too pathetic, too frustrating, too much to bear!

As Gideon fell to the floor his frustration turned to anger and suddenly, he felt the pain. Not from the barrage of balls but from somewhere inside his head. It was a pain he instantly recalled having just once before, but he couldn't remember the circumstances.

Gideon at last felt the impact of the floor but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in his brain. The laughter around him slowly dissipated until all he could hear were the screams, his screams, reverberating around the large hall as he writhed on the floor with his hands clutching his head.

'Wha... What are you doing, idiot!' yelled Jason with a mixed look of anger and horror on his face. 'It was a joke!' he pleaded to no avail as Gideon continued to roll around, 'They're just rubber balls! Get up! GET UP!'

As the teacher's rushed over to Gideon and yelled for someone to go get the school nurse, the screaming finally stopped. He had passed out. The class were all in shock, some of the girls were crying. Even the teachers were terrified.

***

Gideon awoke sometime later, squinting against the bright lights of what turned out to be the school medical room. He raised himself off of the paper covered examination bed and tried to get his bearings. It was few seconds before he could recall what he was doing there.

He remembered being hit by the balls and hitting the floor, and then the screaming. It was him. Some of the feelings of embarrassment and anger came rushing back but it was confusion more than anything else that he felt. It wasn't the balls which had hurt him. What had happened to him?

He made to stand up when he heard raised voices from the corridor outside the room. It wasn't immediate but he recognised one of the voices as his mother's. It was rare for her to shout, but he was sure it was her. Gideon guessed that the other might belong to the Headteacher, Mr Cahill.

'And what's going to be done about it?' Mrs Maxwell demanded. 'What about this Jason boy?'

'We can, of course, contact his parents, Mrs Maxwell but given that it's the last day of term, there isn't really anything we can do in terms of disciplinary action,' said the other voice.

'I don't accept that. I know that boy's caused problems for Gideon and others over the year's and what he did today was beyond cruel,' she added.

'As I said Mrs Maxwell,' he replied, 'I will contact Mr and Mrs Crawley, but I think we should bear in mind that what happened to Gideon today was not likely a result of Jason's actions. I think the best thing for now, is for you to take Gideon and have him examined by a Doctor.'

Gideon didn't hear the rest of the conversation if there was any. The sound of the door startled him, and Mrs Maxwell pulled back the curtain at the back of the office to find her son awake.

'Are you okay sweetie?' she asked in a very different tone from before. He nodded in reply as she felt his forehead. 'Come on, we're leaving. I've got your things here,' Mrs Maxwell informed him, leading Gideon out with a hand on his shoulder and giving the Headteacher a severe look on the way to the reception area.

As they left together through the doors and out towards the car park, Gideon said, 'Are we going to the Doctor's, mum?'

'The Doctor's?' she replied. 'No, no.'

'Then what's wrong with me? Didn't Mr Cahill tell you what happened?' he asked hesitantly.

'Of course, and he's going to speak with that Crawley boy's parents, but you're feeling better now aren't you, honey?' she answered.

Gideon considered it as they approached their aged red Ford Fiesta, 'Well, yes, but I don't understand what happened. My head. I thought it was going to explode or something!'

Mrs Maxwell unlocked the doors and got in the car without meeting his gaze. Gideon got in the passenger side and watched his mother as she started the car, waiting for a response. When it didn't come, he added, 'I remember it happening once before, but I don't know when. Maybe when I was little?'

As they drove away, Mrs Maxwell responded, 'I know you don't like to hear it honey, but you know your health isn't great. It's just one of those things we'll have to manage.'

Gideon wasn't satisfied with this answer, but he had experienced plenty of other embarrassing incidents due to his health. In the past he'd had asthma attacks, heatstroke, even fainting spells. Maybe this _was_ just something else he would have to put up with? At least it didn't happen often.

There was one positive aspect to this incident, Gideon realised. He was done with Johnston Primary School. Summer had finally begun! This thought cheered Gideon up a little, as did his mother turning on the radio.

She turned the dial as far as it would go and tapped it with her wand in an attempt to tune into the hidden Magical Modulation (MM) stations. Strangely, it took her a few tries to make it work but after a few more taps, the old radio came to life and Gideon's favourite band, The Star Gazers were playing on Moonlight MM.

Soon they turned down a quiet country lane and into a wooded area. After another few turns they reached the long, gravelled driveway of Maxwell Manor and suddenly the old car looked quite out of place. The driveway ended in a large circular area with a fountain at its centre.

The natural stone house beyond it was very grand. It wasn't quite a mansion but it had all the impact of one, standing tall against the backdrop of the surrounding trees. Immaculate white rose bushes lined each side of an arched entrance way with huge black-panelled doors.

The house had been in Gideon's father's family for generations. With its six bedrooms, there was plenty of room for Gideon, his parents, his older brother and sister, Anthony and Jennifer, and his paternal Grandmother, who had moved in with them some years ago after a fall and hadn't ever got around to leaving.

Gideon and his mother parked haphazardly and entered the house's gleaming marble-floored foyer. They were quickly greeted with big smiles from the family house elves, Tilly and her son, Tolly.

Unlike other house elves, Tilly and Tolly wore close to full outfits. Each wore a multi-coloured patchwork wraparound toga made to their size and held together with a gold tasselled curtain rope tie, and both had little fabric shoes.

They had, however, only consented to wearing such things as Gideon's sister, an up and coming designer, had fashioned them out of scraps of fabric, tea towels, potato sacks and other materials. This way she convinced them, they didn't count as "clothes", per se, which when given to a house elf would dismiss them from their duties.

Tilly was a very polite but serious older elf who took great pride in serving the Maxwell family, just as her ancestors before her. She mainly saw to the needs of Gideon's parents and Grandmother, while Tolly looked after the children.

'Afternoon Tilly, Tolly,' Mrs Maxwell said. 'Is my husband home?'

'Good Afternoon Mrs Maxwell, Young Master Maxwell,' said Tilly as she took Mrs Maxwell's bag and coat from her, 'Master Maxwell is in the study. Will that be all Mrs?'

'Yes, thank you,' she replied. 'Gideon, take your things up to your room, I want to speak with your dad.'

Gideon headed up the winding staircase with Tolly in tow. Tolly was perhaps Gideon's best friend. They had grown up together in the house but were careful not to let their friendship interfere with Tolly's work or to play when Mr Maxwell was home.

Mr Maxwell was rather strict, especially, Gideon thought, with him. More so than he was with his siblings at least, but then, why wouldn't he be? After all, he had a daughter with talent and ambition, a son who was a star player on his school Quidditch team, and then there was Gideon, who now on top of everything else, was having seizures...

That's why Gideon threw his bags into his room, kicked off his shoes and socks, and doubled back with Tolly to the end of the hall. If he was going to be in trouble over what had happened at school, he wanted to know ahead of time.

'You think you can do your trick, Tolly?' he asked the eager elf.

'Tolly will try, Sir,' he replied.

They had learned a long time ago that if you adjusted the old-fashioned heating vents in a certain way, you could sometimes make out conversations from some of the rooms downstairs. Tolly had become particularly adept at this since house elves with their large ears, had considerably better hearing than humans.

After a while of playing with the different vents and their nobs, Tolly found a combination that connected with the study and they heard Gideon's parents having a discussion.

'...you called him then?' they heard Mrs Maxwell ask.

'Of course, he said he'd be coming by, probably anytime now,' said Mr Maxwell just before the doorbell rang. 'Speak of the devil!'

Gideon was disappointed that they hadn't heard anything interesting but at least his father didn't seem to be in a bad mood. He made his way back to his bedroom as Tolly headed downstairs to answer the door.

Curious about who his parents might have been talking about, Gideon held back behind the wall at the top of the landing to see who their visitor might be. Mr Maxwell, a distinguished-looking, bearded gentleman in navy blue robes shooed Tolly and Tilly away before opening the door himself.

'Thought that might be you, how are you both? Come on in,' Mr Maxwell said as he stepped aside to welcome a man in his early forties with wavy golden hair, and his equally blonde, shaggy-haired son.

Gideon recognised them. The man worked at the Ministry of Magic with his dad. He visited once a year or so, but not always with his son. If he recalled correctly, this was Mr Jonathan Grimsby and his son, Alex.


	4. The Visitors

Gideon watched his father usher Mr Grimsby and his son inside. Mr Maxwell started towards his study before correcting himself, 'Tolly?' he called. 'Go fetch Gideon, would you?' he added as the elf quickly arrived from the other room.

'As you wish, Master,' Tolly answered before hurrying up the staircase. Gideon quickly ducked back behind the wall, so as not to be caught eavesdropping. As Tolly rounded the corner he put a finger to his lips indicating for the elf to be quiet.

He waited a reasonable amount of time before emerging from behind the wall with Tolly, pretending they had made their way from his bedroom. 'You wanted me, dad?' Gideon said as they walked down the stairs.

'Yes, Gideon,' his father replied and indicated to their guests, 'You remember Mr Grimsby and his son, Alex?'

'Yes sir,' Gideon responded.

'We have some business to discuss. Why don't you and Alex go play?' he suggested and then addressed the visitors and Tolly, 'Some cold drinks? I think we have some fresh pumpkin juice?'

'Pumpkin juice sounds great, thank you,' Mr Grimsby answered.

With a nod from Mr Maxwell, Tolly bowed out towards to the kitchen while the two men headed to the Study. 'Want to go up to my room?' Gideon asked timidly.

'Sure,' said the other boy with a smile and they jogged upstairs. As they reached the landing, Gideon glanced at the vents at the end of the hall. He was briefly tempted to try listening to the conversation taking place in the study, but with Alex in tow, he decided against it.

Gideon's bedroom was the smallest in the house but still a good size. There was plenty of room for his all his bookshelves and his drawing desk, as well as a wardrobe, dressing table and a double bed. The walls were adorned with some of Gideon's drawings and a selection of magically-moving posters, including one of the Star Gazers and one of his local Quidditch Team, the Chudley Cannons.

'I forgot you supported the Cannons,' said Alex Grimsby as they entered. 'They haven't been having a good season, have they?'

'No,' said Gideon excitedly, 'but that's mainly because of the new line-up. Once they've had time to work on their team dynamic, I think they could be real contenders.'

'Come off it!' Alex responded. 'The Cannons are going down, it's their keeper they should have sacked!'

'What? Denton's a legend!' Gideon contested.

"He _was_ a legend, you mean. He's been going downhill ever since he took that bludger to the head against the Magpies," Alex joked. The boys both laughed. It was such a refreshing change for Gideon to talk to someone his age about Quidditch, or someone his age full stop, for that matter.

"Oh, you like the Star Gazers, too?" asked Alex. 'Was that poster up when I was here last?'

Gideon had to think about it, 'I've liked them for ages. Though, I'm not sure if the poster would have been up. I got it a couple of birthdays ago, so just over two years ago.'

'Maybe not then. I guess it's been a while,' said Alex. 'I don't know many other kids who like them. I'm not sure about the new album, but I have a signed copy of Nightshade!'

'Wow, really? Gideon exclaimed. 'That's so cool, Nightshade is definitely my favourite!'

Just then, Tolly arrived at the door with a jug of iced Pumpkin juice and four tall glasses on a tray. 'Cheers Tolly!' Gideon said as he poured out two drinks for them and let Tolly continue on to the Study. The boys sat down on two big bean bags.

'So, how come I don't see more of you?' Alex enquired. 'I only even see you when I come with my dad, and that's not often.'

Gideon took a big sip from his glass and replied, 'Well, I don't see many kids from magical families. I go to a muggle school. Or I did, that is. Today was my last day. Finally!'

'Oh! We're the same age then?' Alex asked in surprise. Gideon nodded into his glass in embarrassment, realising that Alex must have assumed he was younger given the foot or so difference in their heights. 'That means we'll be going to Hogwarts together then?' Alex wondered aloud.

'Yeah! I can't wait!' said Gideon. 'I've been dreaming of going for so long, and not just because of how bad my school was. I just can't wait to do magic!'

'Cool. Well I know two more guys who are going, so I can introduce you. I actually met one of them because of magic,' Alex went on to explain how he had met a boy named Greg when they were four year's old and how their families had bonded over an incident of underage magic.

'It was at the beach and Greg's brother had nicked his ice cream cone without their parents noticing,' Alex explained. 'He got upset to the point he accidentally summoned the next nearest ice cream cone to him, which turned out to be mine! Pulled it right out of my little hands! I didn't know what was going on when it just floated away!'

Gideon laughed along with the story, but he was also confused by it. 'But how did he do it?' he asked Alex.

'What, summon the ice cream? Dunno, it's just one of those things that happens, isn't it?' Alex answered jovially. 'I hiccoughed bubbles one time! The babysitter thought I'd swallowed washing up liquid! And once I silenced the neighbour's dog when it wouldn't stop barking.

'The biggest thing I ever did was cause a power cut during a tantrum. Once I finally shut up my mum and dad actually seemed pretty impressed by that!'

Now Gideon was very confused. 'You've done magic, too? More than once?' he asked.

'Well, not on purpose. It just happens, doesn't it? During moments of stress and stuff,' said Alex matter-of-factly. 'My dad says it's something to do with "not being able to regulate the magic that builds up inside of us". Once we get wands and start using magic all the time, it stops for the most part. Haven't you ever done any magic then?'

Gideon knew immediately that he hadn't. He'd been waiting so long for it, but he always thought the first time would be this Autumn at Hogwarts, with a wand. He thought that was what it was like for everyone. Apparently, he had been misinformed.

'Well, it's not the same for everyone. It probably just means you're a little less magical,' Alex commented when Gideon didn't answer. Upon noticing Gideon's face drop, he quickly added, 'Or maybe you have better control of your emotions? Stronger personality or something?'

Gideon perked up a bit at hearing this. After all, he had taught himself to shut down emotionally at school, hadn't he? Maybe not having performed any accidental magic was actually a mark of character?

After the boys finished their juice, they spent the afternoon playing Gobstone's, exploding snap, wizard's chess, and then with Gideon's miniature flying broom stick set, which they used to recreate popular quidditch formations. The whole time they speculated about life at Hogwarts.

Eventually Tolly reappeared to tell them that the Grimsby's had to leave. The boys headed downstairs, agreeing to stay in touch over the summer and to arrange a date to go to London together to get their school supplies.

'There you are, Al. You boys have fun?' Mr Grimsby enquired.

'Yes, dad,' said Alex in a way that sounded like he was embarrassed by his well-meaning father.

'Well it was good to see you, Maxwell. Good to see you, too, Gideon,' said Mr Grimsby with a smile on his handsome face as he extended a handshake in Gideon's direction. Gideon was caught off guard by the gesture, but returned the handshake and in doing so, felt a short but definite pain in the palm of his hand like a pin prick.

Mr Grimsby didn't seem to have noticed anything but when he withdrew his arm, Gideon could have sworn he saw something black in the palm of the man's hand. Mr Grimsby then departed with his son, apparating a few feet from the front door with Alex holding his arm.

'Dad,' Gideon said apprehensively, 'I-I think Mr Grimsby just did something to me, m-maybe accidentally. I think I saw him holding something when we shook hands and, I don't know, it burned me or something.'

Mr Maxwell looked affronted, 'Don't be ridiculous, Gideon! I was standing right next to you both. It'll be the static electricity. Now, go get ready for dinner!'

Gideon considered this for a moment as he looked down at his bare feet and the smooth marble floors, and mumbled to himself with confusion, 'Static electricity?'

***

The Maxwell's almost always dined together as a family. The large polished oak table in their formal dining room sat twelve, but they used one end with Mr Maxwell seated at the head.

Gideon had always found this annoying because it usually made the seating uneven. When his siblings were at school, the adults on the opposite side of the table tended to exclude him from the conversation. When his siblings were home, they would sit in age order, pushing him down to the furthest seat from the end. Because of this he often spent meals entertained only by the sparkling chandelier that hung above them.

'Alright short stuff?' said Gideon's brother, Anthony with a gentle bump on the shoulder as he and Jennifer joined the rest of the family at the table.

Gideon feigned a frown but was used to Anthony's teasing and knew he it wasn't mean spirited.

'Why the two of you always need to be last to sit down, I'll never know,' said their grandmother indignantly as she used the reflection of a knife to adjust a simple but elegant tiara atop her coiffed hair.

'You never heard of being fashionably late, Gran?' asked Jennifer with a smile while sweeping her long brown hair over her shoulder.

'Don't talk to me about fashion, young lady,' she replied eagerly as if presented with the perfect setup. 'I've seen those robe designs you've been working on, Jennifer, and really!'

'I think they're great!' Anthony interjected with laughter in his voice.

'Well, of course you do! I've seen house elves with more material on them!' she said reproachfully.

The children laughed quietly. Shocking their grandmother had always entertained them. She had very old-fashioned values and little patience for subtlety, so it was easy to provoke a response from her.

'Styles are changing, Annabeth,' commented Mrs Maxwell. 'They won't be for everyone, but I think Jenny's designs have a lot of potential.'

'Oh, yes. Potential to end up in a window down Knockturn Alley, that is!' the older woman retorted.

'That'll do mother,' said Mr Maxwell flatly as Tilly and Tolly approached from the adjacent kitchen with dinner.

'You know Gran, the Knockturn Alley boutiques are actually quite on-trend now,' joked Jennifer.

Mrs Maxwell Senior clutched her pearls, looking quite scandalised, but before she could open her mouth to admonish her granddaughter, Mr Maxwell repeated, 'That'll do!' with a look and tone of finality that made her purse her lips, and the children stifle their giggles.

The elves had prepared a sumptuous looking fish dish in a buttery sauce, with mashed potato and roasted green beans. The children and Mrs Maxwell thanked them as they shuffled back out of the room.

As the family began their meal, Gideon thought now would be a good time to ask the question that had been on his mind, 'Did Ant or Jen ever do any magic _before_ they went to Hogwarts?'

The room seemed to go quiet for a moment. 'Why do you ask that, honey?' his mother replied.

'Well,' Gideon said hesitantly, 'when I was talking with that boy, Alex earlier, he mentioned he'd done some magical things by accident, and that friends of his had, too. Is that common?'

'It happens–' his grandmother started to say.

'Sometimes. Sometimes it happens,' his mother interrupted, 'but no, it's not common.'

Everyone continued eating but the atmosphere seemed to have changed. 'So, Ant and Jen didn't then? Do any accidental magic, that is?' Gideon pressed.

'No,' his father responded simply. 'Now eat your dinner, Gideon,' he added before changing the conversation to the daily troubles of inheriting a department from "the chosen one".

Gideon got his answer, but he couldn't help thinking that his grandmother's raised eyebrows had a furtive look about them.

***

Gideon felt exhausted after dinner. The day had seemed so long, even though he had left school early. He pressed his finger to the magical calendar hanging on the back of his bedroom door and an animated frog exploded over the day's date. His first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was now just over five weeks away!

Gideon climbed into bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed that he and Alex Grimsby were being attacked by a swarm of his miniature brooms, which now had stingers and made dangerous buzzing sounds.

They ran down to the foyer to get help from their fathers, but Mr Grimsby had morphed into a crab-like creature and was insisting Gideon shake his snapping pincer. Gideon looked to his father, but Mr Maxwell seemed quite unconcerned and merely said, 'It'll be the static electricity.'

Gideon escaped through the front door and jumped into the car, now a convertible, with his Grandmother at the wheel. She floored it and the car soared into the sky. She repeatedly tapped at the radio with her wand to no avail.

'What's wrong?' Gideon asked her.

'It happens–' she started to say before she was interrupted by Tilly who had emerged from the back seat.

'Sometimes. Sometimes it happens,' said the elf as she lunged for the steering wheel. 'Hold on!'

The car took a nosedive and somehow landed softly in the Johnston Primary School car park. They got out and were immediately assaulted by a deluge of dodge balls with devilish grins and pointed teeth. Gideon was forced to the floor where he began writhing in pain.

Just then, the dream changed. Gideon was small. Smaller than usual. He was in his buggy, riding a muggle bus. To his left was his mother in the nearest seat, struggling to keep a rambunctious Anthony away from the bell buttons. The bus stopped and Anthony made a dash for freedom through the open doors.

'Anthony Maxwell come back here this instant!' his mother commanded as she immediately chased after him. She quickly caught him by the wrist and pulled him back to the bus, but the doors closed. Gideon watched nervously from his buggy as she pounded on the door and screamed for the driver, but slowly began to disappear from his sight.

The toddler began to cry for his mother. The passengers around him began to fuss and make noise. The bus wasn't stopping. His mother had left him all alone. Gideon was scared, confused, desperate. His cries intensified and then he felt it. A relentless pain somewhere inside his head.

His ear-curdling screams were punctuated only by his uncontrollable shaking. The passengers, now barely discernible, looked down at him with terrified faces. The bus came to a stop, Mrs Maxwell appeared, the toddler's vision turned to black, and Gideon woke up covered in a cold sweat.

He bolted upright and tried to calm down. Parts of his dream were fading fast but his brief journey on the bus remained clear. Gideon realised that he had recovered a memory, perhaps triggered by his episode at school. It was from the other time that he had experienced that searing pain. But what, if anything, did it mean?


	5. The Painful Truth

Gideon had the dream every night for over a week. At first, he had wanted to talk to his mother about it. However, she had been unusually preoccupied lately. On top of that, he had recalled how she reacted before when asked about what happened to him on the last day of school.

Gideon didn't know if she had lied or simply hadn't wanted to talk about it, but either way, he was sure she would have remembered the bus incident. He had instead asked his brother. Anthony claimed not to recall what happened.

Gideon would have put this down to how young they were at the time, but the fact that Anthony then offered to play with him, something he rarely did these days, made him wonder if his brother was being truthful. That said, Anthony's idea of playing together was having Gideon lob balls at him in the garden while he practiced flying.

Ultimately, Gideon had decided he didn't need to hear how sickly he was for the umpteenth time, which he was sure would be the response his mother would give if asked. He resolved to forget about the dream and enjoy his summer. The summer, however, was not enjoyable.

Gideon ended up spending more time than usual in his bedroom. Granted, he usually enjoyed the solitude when he wanted to read or draw, but it was more out of necessity than choice that he was shutting himself away so much at the moment.

The rest of the family had begun to act very strangely. Gideon seemed to be interrupting whispered chatter and arguments all over the house. Whenever he entered a room the conversation would come to a halt and his appearances would even cause alarm. It happened so often that Gideon was beginning to feel like a stranger in his own home.

On the few occasions he had asked what was going on, he would be told off for things like eavesdropping or in his Grandmother's words, "sneaking around like a goblin short of a Galleon". Soon the family started to avoid each other altogether, Gideon included, since he'd had quite enough of their peculiar behaviour.

Mr Maxwell spent more time in the study while Mrs Maxwell spent a lot of time cleaning -much to Tilly's dismay. Jennifer insisted she had design work to do in her room and Anthony was always in the garden on his broom. Gideons' grandmother rarely showed at the dinner table anymore, opting instead to stay in her self-contained annex where she kept the house elves busy.

Meals were eaten in near complete silence, as was any time the family did spend together. Gideon's attempts at using the heating vents to get to the bottom of this oddness were, of course, futile now that nobody was speaking. He was furious with himself for not having tried before, but it was so rare that they argued it had taken him by surprise.

Somewhere deep down, Gideon wondered whether he might be the cause of the bad feeling in the house, but he couldn't see how, and more than that, he didn't want to. Rather than confront those kinds of thoughts, he chose to distract himself.

His parents had always forbidden him from learning anything about Hogwarts, or anything to do with magic for that matter, while he was underage. They claimed to not want anything interfering with his muggle schoolwork for one thing. They also said that surprises were supposed to be part of the experience of becoming a wizard, and apparently, they had done the same with Jennifer and Anthony when they were younger.

Even so, Gideon wanted to get a jump on his studies. Whatever was going on, he wasn't going to let it ruin the excitement of his first year at Hogwarts. Since Anthony was spending so much time outside, Gideon took the opportunity to sneak into his brother's room and _borrow_ one of his old spell books.

He climbed into bed that evening with the book and his handheld crystal glowglobe, a gift he'd once received from his grandmother. He shook the small sphere to activate the light charm inside. Tiny glowing orbs appeared rapidly until they filled the sphere with enough light for him to read _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ under the covers. Gideon read with fascination into the night, practicing wand movement instructions with his index finger while sounding out the various incantations under his breath.

He couldn't believe the things that he would be learning and doing in just under a month's time. Once his eyes became too tired to continue, he placed the book and glowglobe in his bottom drawer and blew up yet another animated frog with a press of a finger on his magical calendar. As he observed it, he smiled, realising that his Hogwarts letter would be arriving any day now.

Gideon woke with a start every morning of the next week. Each day he would jump out of bed, throw on his dressing gown and charge downstairs to await the morning post delivery. Tilly and Tolly worked around him without a word of objection as he paced backwards and forwards across the kitchen, staring out the window.

Each day his excitement would peak suddenly and then drop just as quickly, as he realised only one post owl could be seen in the distance, undoubtedly bringing the _Daily Prophet_. It wasn't until Thursday that he saw two shapes hovering above the trees, heading towards the house.

This was it, the moment that would change Gideon's life forever. The moment he would take his first steps towards becoming a real wizard. Two brown owls clipped the top of the nearest ferns and swooped down in unison. They glided gracefully through the kitchen window and settled on the delivery perch.

Tilly went to collect the deliveries, but Gideon beat her to it. Gideon cast aside the day's _Prophet_ and hastily took the letter from the second owl's talon. There it was, the Hogwarts crest. He excitedly flipped the letter over and comprehension dawned on him.

_Mr A. Maxwell  
Maxwell Manor  
Shaftesbury  
Dorset_

This wasn't his Hogwarts letter. This was Anthony's letter. Gideon swore loudly for allowing himself to get swept up in the moment, scaring the birds and causing Tilly to fold down her floppy ears. He had known that Anthony would be getting a letter as well but the anticipation had made him forget. Although, he had expected it would arrive on the same day as his.

'Master Gideon's letter must be coming tomorrow,' Tolly said reassuringly.

Gideon was rather grumpy for the rest of the day. He couldn't face eating breakfast with the family, especially after feeling something undoubtedly solid inside of Anthony's letter, which he was sure was only going to vex him further.

Gideon's suspicions were later confirmed when Anthony opened his letter to find a shiny new quidditch Captain's badge. Gideon tried to ignore the happy noises in the next room as he watched a programme on the lounge telecrystal. When he heard his father congratulate Anthony and tell him, 'That's my boy!' Gideon turned the volume up considerably.

Anthony put the badge on immediately, wearing it for the rest of the day and drawing attention to it whenever possible. Gideon would have liked to think he didn't begrudge his brother this honour, especially since he knew that academics were not Anthony's strength, but secretly his insides were burning with jealousy.

It wasn't just that Gideon had thought today would be _his_ special day, Anthony's achievement was just another sign of how different they were, a very shiny, visible sign at that. Gideon thought his brother might as well have been wearing one of those "I'm with stupid" t-shirts with an arrow pointed at him.

They didn't even look alike. Apart from Gideon's obvious flaws, his siblings both had light brown hair and brown eyes like their mother. Gideon on the other hand, supposedly took after his father's side of the family, at least that was what he had been told. But given his father and grandmother's grey hair and Gideon's odd eyes, he couldn't make a comparison.

Gideon had spent the rest of the day sulking but when he woke up on Friday his excitement had returned, and it was just like every previous morning that week. He launched across the bedroom, into his dressing gown and towards the stairs. As he approached the top step, he stopped on the landing, distracted by the distant sound of raised voices.

Gideon thought It was unusual for anyone else to be up just yet, let alone having an argument. The voices seemed to be coming from the direction of Jennifer's room but as Gideon reached the end of the corridor, he realised they were coming from the heating vent, which apparently had been left open in a convenient way.

Gideon crouched down and put his ear to the grate to listen. 'We can't let this go on any longer, Marcus,' he heard his mother yell at his father, 'we have to tell the truth!'

'The truth? That's out of the question and you know it!" Mr Maxwell snapped.

'Well some version of it then!' Mrs Maxwell responded, 'We can't all continue on as we have been around here. Everybody's on edge, nobody's talking to each other for fear of saying the wrong thing. We can't even have a proper celebration for Anthony. It's not fair to him, to any of the kids, to keep this up!'

Mr Maxwell paused before replying, 'Sarah, I know it's been difficult, but we discussed this. We agreed on how to handle it, didn't we?'

'Things have changed. I just don't want the truth to come out the wrong way. You know what your mother is like, she can't hold her tongue. If she were to let something slip...'

'Aaaagh! What are you doing, midget!' cried Jennifer, who had emerged from her bedroom to find Gideon huddled in the corner.

Gideon lurched with fright and instinctively changed the dial on the heating vent. 'It's cold! I was just adjusting the vent!' he snapped at her angrily as she stormed off towards the bathroom. Of course, he wasn't angry with his sister for the name-calling. It was because she had just interrupted a very interesting conversation, and at a crucial point.

What with being unable to get the vent to work the way it had been, and Jennifer's imminent return, Gideon reluctantly gave up. He replayed his parent's argument in his mind as he slowly made his way down the stairs. His parents rarely quarrelled and when they did it was just over little things.

This argument had been about "the truth". Gideon's parents were lying about something, or to someone, and it sounded like it was the source of the Maxwell's current family troubles. Was this why everyone was so jumpy? Did his grandmother know something? He was more confused than ever.

It was a while before Gideon remembered where he was going. When he did, he trotted off to the kitchen. 'Anything yet?' he asked Tolly hopefully as he sat down at the kitchen table.

'Not yet, Master Gideon,' the elf answered as he brought over a glass or fresh orange juice. Gideon accepted it gratefully and turned his attention to the window. As he scoured the distant sky in search of owls, he tried not to think of what he had overheard or the events of the last few weeks. Gideon couldn't shake a feeling of foreboding, but he knew that it wouldn't last.

As soon as his letter arrived, the uneasy feeling would go away. Once his letter arrived the arguments wouldn't matter anymore. He would be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A letter from Alex Grimsby would surely follow and he would meet his new friend at Diagon Alley to begin their magical journey together.

At last, Gideon would learn how to do magic. He would learn about spells, potions and all kinds of magical creatures. He would learn to fly! He would study hard and make his father proud. He would finally make some friends.

But Gideon's letter didn't arrive that morning. He didn't expect it to arrive on the weekend. When it hadn't arrived on Monday morning, the feeling in the pit of his stomach grew like a slumbering dragon waking from a deep sleep. When the letter still hadn't arrived on Tuesday morning, the dragon rose to his feet and began to growl menacingly.

It was okay, though. Gideon reminded himself that Alex had promised to write once they received their letters. He hadn't heard from him yet, so he, too, must still be waiting. That thought sustained Gideon through to Thursday. However, when the _Daily Prophet_ arrived in the talons of a lone tawny owl on Friday, he began to despair.

He tried desperately to rid himself of the thoughts racing through his mind. The whispers, the arguments, the secrets and lies, his dreams, his illnesses. Together, they all seemed to add up to something that Gideon simply wasn't ready to face.

Gideon took the newspaper into the dining room so his father could read it with his breakfast. He was surprised to find Mr Maxwell already sat there with his mother, both fully dressed, with two mugs of coffee. He was momentarily relieved that they did not seem alarmed by his presence for once, but seeing them together like this, perhaps waiting for him, did nothing to ease the feeling in his gut.

'I didn't expect you up yet,' Gideon said as coolly as he could. 'Here's the paper, dad.'

'Oh, thank you,' Mr Maxwell replied.

Gideon made to leave the room all the while knowing somehow, that he wouldn't reach the door.

'Why don't you sit down for a minute, Gideon?' said Mrs Maxwell.

'What for?' he asked quietly.

'Your dad and I would like to speak with you,' she answered.

Gideon complied and took a seat while the dragon in his stomach flexed its wings. 'What about?' he asked, avoiding direct eye contact with either of them.

'Well, we wanted to talk to you about your next year of school,' his mother stated.

'Oh, do _you_ have my Hogwarts letter?' said Gideon in a fleeting moment of hope.

'No, Gideon,' his father answered flatly. 'We need to make some decisions about your education. Where you want to go to school, what you want to study and such.'

The dragon was starting to claw at the walls of Gideon's stomach now. 'But I haven't had my Hogwarts letter yet,' he asserted weakly as his father looked down at his hands and his mother's kind expression changed to one of pity.

'Oh, Gideon,' she said with sorrow in her voice, 'I'm so sorry honey, but I don't think you're going to get a letter.'

And there it was. The thought that Gideon had avoided confronting for weeks now. Everything was beginning to slot into place. This was it. This was "the truth" his parents had been hiding and he was the one they had been hiding it from. Somehow, he knew. He knew what was coming. But he needed to hear the words.

Gideon's bottom lip quivered, and his voice cracked as he asked, 'And why wouldn't I get a letter?'

Mrs Maxwell took a moment before she answered, 'I... I don't think you're magical enough, sweetie. We think that... That you might be...' His mother couldn't finish her sentence. She couldn't bear to break the news to her little boy.

Mr Maxwell took her hand as she pressed the other against her mouth. He turned to Gideon and in a softer tone than he was accustomed to, he told him plainly, 'You're a squib, Gideon.'

As the words that would shatter his life sunk in, the dragon inside Gideon finally swelled up and released an almighty breath of fire. He didn't know how to process this. It all made sense now. But it wasn't fair! He was suddenly consumed by so many thoughts and feelings, including the distinct feeling that he might be sick. Instead he did something he hadn't let himself do in a very long time. He cried.

Gideon slumped out of his chair and broke down completely. His hopes, his dreams, his future. They were all gone, and he couldn't hold back anymore, even in front of his father. In-fact, as his world crumbled around him, he barley even registered that Mr Maxwell was in the room anymore, or that Mrs Maxwell had rushed to his side and was holding him tightly.

Gideon was so lost in emotion that he didn't immediately understand what happened next. His mental anguish became physical agony, his sobs became screams, and his body began to thrash uncontrollably in his mother's arms. Once again, a pain like no other took a hold of Gideon and soon after, rendered him unconscious.

**Thank you so much to those of you who have read this far![Click here to view Chapter 6 and beyond on Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/story/227644654-gideon-drake-and-the-fire-within).  
**


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